“Nothing, Amy.”
“You are feeling ill, aren't you?”
“Perhaps so, a little. It is nothing worth talking about.”
“Are you troubled about anything, honey?”
Anna did not reply.
“I can't imagine what you have to trouble you, Anna. Everything is as it has been for a long time. When we move away from Banbridge there will be more for a while. I can't see anything to worry about.”
“For God's sake, keep your eyes shut, then, Amy, as long as you can,” cried Anna, suddenly, with a tone which the other woman had never heard before. She gazed at her sister-in-law a minute, and her expression of childish sweetness and contentment changed. Tears came in her eyes, her mouth quivered.
“I don't know what you mean, Anna,” she said, pitifully, like a puzzled child.
Anna sprang up from the divan and went over to her and kissed her and laughed. “I mean nothing, dear,” she said. “There is no more to worry about now than there has been all along. People get on somehow. We are in the world, and we have our right here, and if we knock over a few people to keep our footholds, I don't know that we are to blame. It is nothing, Amy. I have felt wretched for a few days, and it has affected my spirits. Don't mind anything I have said. We shall leave Banbridge before long, and, as you say, we shall get on better.”
Mrs. Carroll gave two or three little whimpers on her sister-in-law's shoulder, then she smiled up at her. “I guess it is because you don't feel well that you are looking on the dark side of things so,” said she. “You will feel better to go out and have a drive.”